Royally Rumbled
by loumtom
Summary: My first attempt, I hope you like it, just a bit of fluff, really.


"What the hell was that?"

John couldn't look over his shoulder at the fuming figure of the Viper. "I was eliminated, what did it look like?"

"But you were supposed to win the Rumble. You practically threw yourself out of the ring as soon as Show touched you! It was chaos out there, no-one knew what to do, the Miz won! For christ's sake, the Miz!"

John smiled sadly at the locker he was clearing. "Good for him, he's a decent wrestler, he could do with the break."

"He could do with the… Are you insane?! Vince will kill you, not to mention the 27 other Rumble contestants."

John knew he shouldn't subject himself to the sight, to the pain, but he'd finished emptying his possessions into the holdall and he really couldn't avoid it much longer. He turned to face the apex predator. "I don't actually give a damn about them. I've already spoken to Vince, I've quit."

In any other circumstances, John would have found the expression on Randy's face comical.

"You can't quit. You're lined up to get the heavyweight belt back. You're Mr. WWE."

John ticked off his fingers. "I can. Miz is gonna get the title shot since he won the Rumble. I was Mr. WWE. Things change Randy. People change and I just can't do this anymore." Suddenly his shoulders dropped. Mr. WWE looked for all the world like a broken man. He certainly felt like one.

_People change…He certainly had. He'd been a star for so long, he couldn't remember what it was like to want someone and not get them. But now, he had grown to love someone (good God, love!) and he was never going to get so much as a hint of hope that anything would ever happen. Because it couldn't, because he had fallen for a colleague, because he had fallen for a friend, because he had fallen for a married person, because he had fallen for a man, because he had fallen for Randy. How did it happen? How had he been such an idiot? How could he go on pretending there was nothing wrong? How could he wrestle the man every night without dying inside? _

Randy looked at John as if for the first time that night. "What the hell's going on with you? I know we're not best buds, but you look like crap, and I'm a great listener. Mostly 'cause I'm too dumb to think of anything to say!" He ended with a small harsh laugh.

"You're not dumb" It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and wishing it back didn't help, he couldn't have wished any harder!

"Of course I am. I could have worked a little harder and made the grades at college, could've actually listened to my old man and steered clear of wrestling. But I decided that a life of getting my ass kicked around the ring every night would be a much better career path!" He knew he was babbling, but he couldn't figure out why John would defend him so vehemently. As he said, they weren't great friends, they respected each other, sure, but from a distance, as if getting close would be too dangerous. Randy knew it would be dangerous for him. If he had followed his mum's wishes and become a banker, he could have come out as gay years ago instead of having to live a lie both in front of and behind the cameras. Yeah, real smart move Randy!

"You don't get your ass kicked **every** night; just when you're fighting me!" John was stunned by his own reaction. Dear Lord, are you seriously flirting with the man? Do you want to have your face re-arranged at the same time as your heart?

Randy caught his breath. Was John flirting? For one precious second he could hope, but then he crushed it down.

_People don't change, Randy had tried. If he thought that any of those hokey Christian courses would have made him straight he'd had signed up in an instant. He wasn't ashamed of his sexuality. But he knew he could never come out in the life he'd chosen. And he had chosen it, his dad, his granddad, although he knew they were proud of him following their footsteps, they had encouraged him to have 'normal' life. One where he wasn't owned by the public and the company and his own god-damned image. He had to stay at arm's length from John, because he had fallen the moment he saw John run out to face Kurt Angle. The way he moved, the way he looked, the way he smiled…He was never going to be just friends with that man. And now he was hallucinating flirting, he had to put an end to this._

"So you can kick my ass, but you've decided to quit because what? You're just too good for us now? Or have you had a better offer and you decided to just up and leave?" He knew he sounded bitchy, but he didn't know how to handle this.

"Too good for you?" John was stunned, why would Randy think that? The truth was, he had nothing to go to. He wasn't about to drift down to the lower leagues, TNA wasn't his idea of glam(!). If anything, he was leaving because he knew he'd never be what Randy wanted, and he found that a little too hard to take.

Randy looked at the man in front of him. Where was John's cocky grin? Where were his ready come backs? Why did he look like Randy had just RKO'd him? "What's wrong John? You can't just run, whatever it is, it can be sorted."

The sudden change in Randy's voice almost pole-axed John. He tried not imagining Randy talking to him like that in other circumstances. "You've no idea, Randy. And if you did, well, I think you'd agree this is the best thing to do." He couldn't look at Randy again, he didn't know what he'd do if he did. So John just hefted the bag over his shoulder and left the locker room.

_Randy had never taken the easy way. He was great at Art and English, so he'd taken Mathematics as his major. His parents had made it easy to go stay at college and gain an MBA, but he'd gone into wrestling. He was offered a shoo-in as a third-generation wrestler, but he'd preferred to work his way up. "Nothing worth having ever came easy", his grandfather's mantra came back time and again._

John was walking slowly down the corridor. Slowly, because everything he'd ever wanted was behind him. Slowly, because every step was killing him. Slowly, because this was the first time he'd ever quit, ever acknowledged that he couldn't win.

Randy came out of the locker room and saw John's back about to turn a corner. "You can't leave."

John stopped but he didn't turn around.

Randy took a raggedy breath. He had to make this good; he had to make it count. "We've never been friends. I know it's my fault. You tried, but I always kept my distance. You deserve to know why. And I deserve to be allowed to tell you before you leave."

He couldn't tell if John was even vaguely interested, but he hadn't moved, so…

"I love you. I've loved you since the first time you poured ice water over my head when I beat you. I love the way your whole face lights up when you smile. I love the way you take the youngsters under your wing. I love the way you move and I love the way you stand. I love your corny jokes. I even love your pathetic rapping. If we were anything other than what we are, I might have got up the courage to tell you this when there was a chance that it could mean something. But as it is… I needed to tell you so that even though I'll never see you again, at least I can sleep at night. At least I know I told you, even if I told you too late."

Somewhere, 50,000 fans were cheering a hero. Somewhere, Vince McMahon was screaming at an underling. Somewhere… But in the corridor there was only silence. Randy was spent. He'd said all he had to say. If John decided to beat the crap out of him, he could. What else was there left to this conversation?

There was a crunching sound as something valuable at the bottom of John bags hit the concrete and shattered. Randy looked up just in time to see John descending down on him at speed. And then there was darkness as the air was knocked out of him. But it was the darkness of John's face blocking out the light and the breathlessness of the deepest kiss he'd ever known. They tumbled to the floor with Randy's head taking a fair bit of the blow. He knew it would hurt like hell later, but it barely registered. All he could comprehend were the lips on his, the hands pulling their bodies ever closer and that body… so close, so hard.

_It was a shame, Miz thought to himself. He'd loved the way the belt felt as he went down to the ring as the heavyweight champion. He'd loved the smell of the crowd and the roar of the greasepaint! He'd gloried in everything that came with the championship while it lasted. It was just a shame that it hadn't lasted longer. But barely a week after he'd become the world heavyweight champion, he'd been challenged by Cena. He'd thought the Shield might come to his rescue, but Orton had kept them out of the ring for the three count and the belt had left with John. Well, it was no skin of his nose really. He was now rostered with Raw and Orton and Cena were rostered together with Smackdown. Looking at them, he figured it was permanent._


End file.
